Maneater (ABANDONNED)
by Witty Lady
Summary: AU: "Oh poor giant, clearly he's too busy having a wet dream about the Communist manifesto." Ivan, a hated Russian exchange student. Alfred, the school's "It" boy. When Alfred's friends convince Ivan that they would help him win Alfred, Ivan unknowingly accepts, hoping his crush would subdue. But what happens when Alfred falls for the Russian boy as well? Rusame.


**A/N: Mrs. Kirkland is Brtianna! Please enjoy! And thanks for reading!**

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Shimmering blue eyes, tinted with mischievous and as bright as the ocean blue, never stopped him from getting lost in them. Luscious blond locks, which rested on his face gently, with a stubborn cowlick sticking out from his thick hair. The light always glinted off it perfectly, making it seem as if he was an angel ascended from heaven, here to grace everyone with his presence. Girls would swoon over him, glaring at each other to back off, just to spend one moment with him. Boys would grumble and mumble under their breaths, dismissing the American god, but in reality, they either wanted to be him or wanted to his man. Ivan couldn't deny that he was attracted to this boy, but he hid it well.

So what if his arrogance highlighted his determination, his passion for sports and learning was unrivaled, he wanted to be the very best, the so called "hero" to save the day and make sure he was always striving and everyone else? But Ivan didn't want to acknowledge it, no, how could he? He was practically the rival of this handsome boy, the two were embroiled in their own little cold war.

Sadly the American named Alfred would never be his. Ivan tried to tell himself so many times it didn't hurt, that it was just a little bump in the road. Besides, falling the enemy was never a good idea, they would only tear your heart to shreds if they ever found out. Or maybe they would be more sly, they would slowly take advantage of you. They would move in close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, declarations of undying love as their gentle touch slithers down the nape of your neck to your back, where they run their knife through you. You end up choking on your blood, it staining your body, tarnishing your soul. You could feel their hand break your soul, the pieces shattering to the ground, crackled and ruined, especially after you worked so hard to meld it into something you wanted to be.

"Yo, Braginski!" Ivan ceased his daydreaming, seeing the soccer ball fly towards his face, and he knew it was too late to dodge it. It hit him square in the face, making Ivan grunt loudly and collapse, prostrate to the ground. He groaned in pain, holding his nose, cradling his face from the outside world. He could hear the coach's heavy sighs and the kids' sickening laughter, smart remarks made behind his back. _Freak! Oh poor giant, clearly he's too busy having a wet dream about the Communist manifesto. He's probably drunk on vodka._ Just because they were regular insults, doesn't mean it still didn't hurt him. It felt like tiny little daggers in his heart every day, but it's not like he could change it.

The coach helped him up and Ivan plugged his nose. He noticed Alfred, looking slightly guilty, but he did nothing to help him. Instead, he looked away, his tan cheeks stained with a red tint, as if from embarrassment. _What the hell does he have to be embarrassed about? He's not the one who got hit in the face with a soccer ball or has kids constantly insulting him._ He felt anger Aswell within him, it was like a forest fire that could not be quelled. "To the nurse, Braginski, come on." He placed a hand on the tall, Russian boy's shoulders. "I need someone to escort him."

Everyone quickly looked away in fear as he glared at all the students, why couldn't he go by himself? The school nurse and Ivan were practically best friends right now, she knew Ivan by full name and always loved talking to him while he was recovering between periods. Being a exchange student from Russia had its perks, at first, people flocked to him left and right, wanting to learn more, but the scarier they thought he was, the more they avoided him. He had no real friends, but it was better that way, probably. He would be leaving at the end of the year, it's not like he should remain too attached.

"I'll go, sir!" A cheery voice piped up, hyperactivity practically leaking from his voice. He turned to find Alfred already taking large strides to meet him. Ivan could feel his face heat up, but he hoped it wasn't red, he really didn't need to be teased about his crush on Alfred. It wasn't right, morally or socially. He noticed that Alfred was already making his way towards the exit of the field without him and Ivan hurried after him. He could hear the sneers behind his back, but he merely ignored them. There's been worse, there will always be worse.

"Why did you come, it's not like you actually care." Ivan was defensive, skeptical. Probably Alfred's gang was waiting to jump him, waiting until the two of them were alone. Ivan's hands were already twitching, waiting to curl into fists, ready to fight. His host family would probably ask why he had another injury, he would say he was just clumsy. "I'm not in the mood to deal with any jokes, cowboy." Cowboy was Ivan's nickname for Alfred, who was born and raised to be a true American. He embodied practically every stereotype there was of an American.

"Easy there, commie," Alfred turned around, his blue eyes darkened, as if there was a storm waiting to be unleashed. He could already Alfred's form stiffen, as if he was already to land a punch at Ivan, fist fights between them were rare, but they have broke out before. Ivan growled under his breath. _Out of all the idiots in this world and I'm attracted to him?_ "I didn't come with you just so I could beat your ass, I could do that any day I wanted to." Ivan had to resist the urge to beat him with a metal pipe. "I came here because I felt guilty about that soccer ball hitting your face. Now that I think about it, it's pretty sick. So much blood, it's dripped on your scarf."

Ivan looked down and gasped involuntarily, his heart already breaking. _No, no no!_ That was his favorite scarf, it was a gift from his sisters, the one comfort in America that he had. He could sniff its enticing and inducing aroma and feel right at home, away from all the pain his school brought. He groaned in pain and went along, shoving Alfred out of the way. "Let's just get to the nurse's already, we're wasting time by bickering." He muttered, moving along.

Normally, Alfred would retort and laugh in his face, taunting him until Ivan finally reacted in rage, but instead, Alfred ignored him, moving along, keeping in stride with the Russian. He couldn't help it, no matter how much he wanted to push him away, to deny any shred of admiration that he had for the boy. He kept sneaking glances at Alfred, noticing the crease in his eyebrows, intent on just dropping Ivan off at the nurse and then leaving him there, not having to be next to the "communist bastard to who cursed the great country known as America" as he like to put it.

"Well, here we are, Braginski, the nurse's office. Enjoy your umpteenth visit," Alfred retorted, that infamous smirk that Ivan secretly loved. He yearned for that smirk to only be or him, to tease him, entice him, mock him, and to be solely for him, but he knew that smirk would never be his. Those bright blue eyes, that put the sky's infinite blue to shame, would only hold hatred and disgust for him. He would never run his sun kissed fingers through Ivan's silvery hair, never let his soft pink lips mix with Ivan's. He would never brush Ivan's tears from his purple eyes. No, those were fantasies, mere dreams, impossible to achieve.

Alfred was a player; even if Ivan ever had the chance to try to be Alfred's only, he would chew him up, spit him out, and move on to the next unlucky victim. He would never be Alfred's, and Alfred would never be his. Why did he even try? But it was so hard to repress those feelings, at times it made him so dizzy that he couldn't breathe, that the world would spin and spin until everything became nothing but a blur-

"Why do you keep looking at me like that, Braginski?" His voice showed no concern, only mild annoyance, but if Ivan really looked at his face, he could see concern. His eyes widened, he was chewing on his lip, and he looked red in the face, as if he was debating on whether he should actually care for Ivan's condition.

"Just thinking-"

"About how much you'd like the fuck me?" Alfred teased, which received a shove from Ivan.

"Honestly, you are so childish. Why don't you grow up? Not everyone will fall to their knees, waiting to kiss your filthy feet. This changes nothing, I don't even know why I bother with you when someone like you is clearly not worth my time." Fire ran through Ivan's veins, making his face warmer, his fists balling at his sides, itching to punch the American in the face, his face flushing red at the provocative thought. Alfred merely smirked and left Ivan standing there, his breathing growing ragged as he refused to face his rival.

After the annoying idiot had left, Ivan screamed in frustration and punched a locker, instant pain flared in his fist as he hissed in pain, cradling his hand to his chest. A couple of cuts were made on his knuckles, but his fingers felt as if they had a door slammed into them. _Great, now I'm hurting myself because that bastard can't control himself! Honestly._

"Ivan, sweetie, are you alright?" He heard a soft voice, one that always calmed him in his fits of anger. One that sounded like the soft drizzle of rain on a lazy autumn afternoon, or the gentle wind whispering in the snowy night. He turned to find the school nurse, Mrs. Kirkland, smiling down at him. Her warm green eyes were welcoming, and her blond hair was tied back into a messy bun. The door to her office was already open, and he flushed red, angry that the poor woman probably just saw his outburst. "What happened?" She gasped, "Come here this instant, young man." Her voice was more motherly than scorning, and entered the office, sitting down on the makeshift bed.

She examined his hand after she offered a wet towel to wipe away the dried blood that caked his chin and nostrils. He rubbed it away, frantically, trying to forget what happened. He moaned in pain as Mrs. Kirkland dabbed the medical alcohol on his knuckles as gently as possible while offering a quick apology. She placed some band aids on his knuckles and then smiled, content with her work. "All done," but before Ivan could get up, she stopped him. "But you're not done. Spill, what really happened?"

"I told you, Mrs. Kirkland," Ivan muttered nervously, he could never lie directly to her face. She could already tell, his accent always grew thicker when he lied. "I just got hurt during gym, it was nothing."

"Nothing my ass," made Ivan look up in shock, but the woman wasn't joking around. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was waiting for a response. "Alfred?" Ivan nodded, ashamed he thought he could lie to her. She was his only friend, but even then, it still felt as if it was more obligation to help any student at this school in need. It just happened to be Ivan most days. "Don't let him get to you, alright, Ivan?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kirkland."

"Besides, I think you two would make an excellent pair." Ivan's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he was stuttered, trying to find words to fight back, but his mind shut down on him, in English and Russian. He had no coherent thoughts running though his mind right now. "Anyways, you're free to go. Have a nice rest of the day, Ivan!" She smiled and he bid her goodbye, it was hard to stay mad at Mrs. Kirkland.

Was it really possible? What if he could reconcile with Alfred? Then maybe his heart would stop racing as if it was getting ready to blast to the moon? Maybe he could get over his silly little crush of he knew Alfred more. And that' exactly what he would do.


End file.
